


The First Act (You Can't Fool the Moon Remix)

by Nununununu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Feelings, Internal Conflict, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Remix, Rivalry, Touching, Wutai War (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: He sits and surveys what he claims for this moment as his kingdom.
Relationships: Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	The First Act (You Can't Fool the Moon Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Can't Fool the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183146) by [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka). 



> Just in case, deals with the aftermath of non-detailed loss of life and destruction during the Wutai war.
> 
> (Originally posted 14.10; updated for author reveals)

It is late, the round rusty orb of the blood moon hanging low over the shattered timber left of the once tall trees surrounding the place where the great temple to Leviathan had been. Genesis sits atop the sole wooden pillar left standing, a former support beam transformed into a lone sentinel overlooking the wreckage of the temple complex. The beam is tipped sideways to an alarming angle, appearing as if a breath might topple it – it pleases him, in a sense, to lean back on his hands with a foot dangling casually over the edge as if it is only his will that keeps the pillar still in place. The unique form of responsibility that comes with knowing that if he were to move incautiously, this last remaining part of the temple would fall.

He sits and surveys what he claims for this moment as his kingdom – the broken rubble that marks what was the most precious of the temples upon the Wutaian Emperor’s land the President seeks for his own by any means; a place made to house wonders and rarities, cultural treasures and antiquities, things Genesis had read of and dreamed about as a green youth cossetted in a simple village that in hindsight reeked of deception and untruths.

The stench of experimentation and false families can’t reach him here. He would hold a play amongst the ruins of this former temple, would make what’s left of it a stage, and the sky and shattered timber and the silent bodies of Wutaian soldiers – always so quick to run upon Sephiroth’s sword – the audience. A fitting tribute to the death of a place said to be so grand the Goddess herself might have graced it with her presence; might have descended from her skies in _Loveless_ and into this play of Genesis’ own creation to run intangible fingertips over walls that glowed in the wake of her passing; might have walked down what once were wooden steps to offer a boon to the hero of the play, a witness to both triumph and tragedy, lives saved but knowledge and beauty lost, never to be regained.

“ _All that awaits you is a sombre morrow_ ,” His voice a murmur, Genesis brushes fine strands of hair out of his eyes and readies himself to depart.

A sensation both hot and cold at once claws down his spine at the sudden certainty he is no longer alone.

Schooling his expression into laconic unconcern, he turns to see Sephiroth standing at what used to be the edge of the forest, silver hair aflame in the moonlight in contrast to his shadowed gaze. Only willpower prevents Genesis’ back from stiffening, although he feels something deep within his ribcage curdle, that part of him that can never help but react to this man spoiling for a fight.

He had arrived here when the battle was already over, after all – Sephiroth had excused himself to travel alone ahead of the troops, while Genesis had been stuck overseeing them and unable to escape, and the General had concluded his bout of destruction by the time the transport touched down. 

“Come to see the results of your labour?” There’s an undertone to the question that betrays the way Genesis’ lip wants to curl.

“Genesis. You are –”

Only Genesis – and, allowably, Angeal – would hear the briefest of pauses here, an ellipsis Genesis finds himself not for the first time attributing to Sephiroth running through some mental lexicon of inconvenient emotions as suffered by lesser beings than the mighty General, holding it up – so to say – and endeavouring to see whether the end result fit the person under observation.

“Upset,” Sephiroth concludes, and the vaguely mystified condensation Genesis hears in this makes him bristle.

“ _There are no dreams_ ,” He’s drawing his rapier, fingers lighting up the spell inscribed upon the blade even as he dives off the pillar towards his would-be opponent, “ _No honour remains_.” He can’t even fully explain why he’s so angry, “It never has for you, has it!”

He can’t help but think of Angeal and what their stalwart friend would make of all this.

“It is forbidden to duel on duty; you forget yourself,” Masamune catches the rapier with irritating ease, a simple turn of Sephiroth’s hand flicking the blade aside as if it’s nothing, “Calm down.”

“ _Why should I?_ ” Emotion has Genesis blasting a barrage of fire at the other man, an immense tornado of flame he’d know better than to risk given their location if he wasn’t so –

_So_ –

Why does Sephiroth always have to be so infuriatingly –

In this moment of incandescent fury, Genesis, who always has the right words for everything, is almost beyond them completely.

“ _Calm down_ ,” Sephiroth plunges through the fire as if it’s nothing, whisking it away from igniting the remains of the forest like an afterthought, “Genesis!”

And then his arms are around Genesis, forcing the rapier down, Genesis’ own arms trapped against that maddeningly ever bare chest.

“Unhand me!” Genesis struggles fiercely for a moment, before he sags so abruptly his knees almost go out, staring unseeingly at the last pillar as it lets out an anguished groan, collapsing in a cloud of choking dirt.

“And so, it is done,” His hands are clutching Sephiroth’s shoulders through the thick layer of that ridiculous coat. Simply for somewhere to put them, of course, pinned against the man as he is.

Despite himself, his eyes sting.

“I don’t recognise that line,” Sephiroth says after a few seconds in which Genesis grows progressively stiffer and the General fails to let go, “ _Loveless_?”

“ _Genesis_ ,” Genesis draws a smoother breath in, regaining with it a fair amount of his usual poise. When he pushes against Sephiroth, the other man steps back, releasing him. Awarding him a mocking bow in response, Genesis sheaths his rapier, “Act One.”

“You are only at the beginning?” Sephiroth replaces Masamune upon his back similarly, “The line sounded to me as if it were an ending.”

His green eyes are aglow in the moonlight. Genesis should not look at him and feel anything other than loathing or a return of his anger.

Unfortunately, as bitter as it might have him, he’s always been regrettably assailed with other, more fervid emotions regarding the man. Ones that speak of desire and avarice, ever burning alongside that flame in his chest.

“An ending can be a form of beginning, can it not?” Genesis conceals his conflict behind a sweeping gesture, “All my grandest deeds yet lie before me; you will see.” He bares his teeth when Sephiroth raises a hand to his face in unspoken offer, although –

Although.

The touch makes quite a different fire start up inside him as he permits gloved fingers to guide those troublesome locks of hair back off his forehead, even as he waits for Sephiroth to inevitably spoil things by speaking.

There’s a slightly odd expression on the man’s face however, one Genesis has never seen before and, for all his talent at understanding that which people seek not to be seen, cannot fully read.

And for all Genesis has braced himself subtly for mockery or condescension, Sephiroth simply looks at him, his thumb grazing Genesis’s cheekbone with surprising lightness, before he inclines his head in a nod of startling agreement, “I look forward to it.”


End file.
